spring break cont'd

With flowers and films.

Yesterday.

Friday, at the allotment.

Same. Our allotment neighbour has the best primroses and Bramley apple tree blossom.

Thursday morning, arranging tulips in my dressing gown.

Wednesday morning. Vase by Phoebe, arm by Simon.

Tuesday morning.

Monday morning.

Sunday morning.

[All week]

And an abundance of amaryllis which I have decided I like growing in spring rather than Dec/Jan because they are much happier with more light and warmth, and they get going far faster. Also, the bulb companies reduce the prices later in the season (ie when there is no hope of flowering at Christmas) and the bulbs keep really well in their paper bags in a box in a cool dark place until you are ready to plant them, which I did not long ago. The biggest problem is finding enough nice containers which it why a couple are in soup tureens (also because I like the shape so much).

We’ve had a Brocket Blockbusters mini home film festival. The Ipcress File (1965): Michael Caine and a soot-covered London sharing top billing, plus cooking and coffee-making scenes as you’d expect with Len Deighton (likewise breathtakingly rude treatment of women), extremely watchable. The Sweet Smell of Success (1957): great film noir with sleazeballs and society columnists making money out of other people’s misfortune and mistakes, and all very close to home at the moment. Victim (1961): a brave, balanced, candid (for the time) film, post-Wolfenden Report and pre-decriminalisation of homosexuality, and and indication that the law lagged way behind public opinion. Farewell, My Lovely (1944): I love Raymond Chandler’s hard-boiled style in his books and screenplays (lots of laugh at loud moments with the extravagant similes here) but I rarely understand his plots. No matter, this is great.

Plus a solo trip to see One to One: John and Yoko (a film too far for Simon) at the Arts Picturehouse which is in what was The Regal (the cinema is above The Regal, a Wetherspoons) where The Beatles played in March and November 1963. It is as much about the febrile atmosphere in the US in the early 70s as it is about John and Yoko, and it’s very choppy and loud, but what is revelatory is the sheer magnificence of John Lennon’s stage presence and voice in what was to be his last full, rehearsed concert. I came out feeling both battered and exhilarated.

Time to go and get some more tulips.

Happy Sunday!